The Cafe
by EE's Skysong
Summary: No powers AU One cafe, ten people, weird connections. Is love just a coincidence, or is there something deeper going on? Ch. Two: a sexy foreigner and a pie obsessor. SLASH
1. Commitment Free? As if

Disclaimer: "She's a controlling, sarcastic, super-bitch. GOD I love her!"

(An: This first chapter is Romy, and it's rather convoluted... And in case you haven't figured it out, this is set a few years after normal XME stuff- everyone's around in their twenties. Not much of a stretch. Also, there WILL NOT, I repeat, WILL NOT be fast updates. Every chapter is about the length of a oneshot for me, and so... yeah. That takes a while. Flashbacks are in italics, just so you know.)

Marie Darkholme had a problem. It was sleeping right next to her. Its name was Remy LeBeau. Marie was falling in love with him.

She wasn't sure how it'd happened. When she'd met him, she hadn't thought of him like that at all- she'd found him to be the most annoying, narcissitic man she'd ever met.  
She pulled her legs up to her chest, glancing at him. She thought back to the day she'd met him. Had it really only been just over a month ago?

&&&

_Marie was walking to her lunch break. She always went the same place every day- the Acoustic Cafe, a little diner with a guitar for its sign. This was when she ran into Remy. Literally. As in, they both were looking away and bumped into each other. She tripped, and her purse and his bag spilled out onto the ground. _Aw, man,_ she thought, gathering up her things._

"Sorry 'bout that, chere_," said the man. His voice was a Cajun purr. This was the instant that Marie decided she didn't like him._

"It's all right," said Marie, keeping her voice level. She glanced at him. She had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. But two seconds had been all she needed to discover he wasn't her type. "It was kinda my fault too."

The man shrugged, smiling at her. "Whatever you say, chere_," he murmured, and continued his walk._

What Marie didn't notice was the man palming her wallet and smirking slightly.

&&&

Marie sighed with pleasure as she stepped in the Acoustic Cafe. She loved it here. She went over to her usual booth in the corner, and waited for a waitress to show up. To her pleasure, it was her friend Wanda. "Hey, girl," said Wanda. "Let me guess." She rubbed her temples as though in deep thought, and then said, "Black coffee and the soup."

"Oh, pity, am I gettin' predictable?" Marie replied.

"You mean you weren't?"

Marie laughed. "Thanks a lot, Wanda," she replied. "You've had your daily potshot. Now get me my coffee, dammit!"

"I live to serve," said Wanda, with a mock bow. She walked back into the kitchen.

It was then that Marie saw the man she'd bumped into walk into the cafe. Oh, God,_ she thought, resting her head on the table. _Just please don't let him spot me... I just _know_ he'll try to hit on me...__

Of course, since Marie did not control fate, he saw her. He walked over and slid into her booth. "It ain't that I can't take a hint, chere_," said the guy, seeing the death glare she was giving him, "but I accidentally grabbed this, and it turned out we were going to the same place anyway..." He slid her wallet across the table._

Marie looked down at them, then back up at the man. She picked up her wallet, eyeing him in a way that made it evident that she didn't want to trust him.

"I'm Remy, by the way."

"Marie Darkholme."

It was then, of course, that Wanda came back, carrying a coffee mug. She gasped in mock-surprise. "Oh, dear God, the apocalypse is coming! Marie Darkholme has sat by a guy for FIVE MINUTES without castrating him!"

"I knew I was right to plug you as a maneater," said Remy, an infuriating but undeniably sexy smile on his face.

"Wanda, I'm going to kill you later," said Marie. "What days work for you?"

"I'm free on Friday!"

Remy snorted.

"It's not that I want to die," she said, apparently for his benefit, "it's more that I'd like to see her try and kill me. You know, as one of those annoying stories to repeatedly tell my grandkids or whatever."

Marie flicked her fingers at her imperiously. "Fetch me my soup, lackey. It's what you get payed for- not_ to gossip with guys."_

"So you're a black coffee person?" Remy interjected.

Marie gave him a look that clearly said "Why haven't you left yet?" Since Remy seemed to be ignoring this, she sighed, and replied, "Yes, I am. What's the point of coffee if you just drench it in milk and sugar?"

"A black coffee person from Mississippi," Remy mused. "I should randomly ram into people more."

She ignored that last statement, more intersested in his assesment of her. "How did you know I'm from Mississippi?"

"Girl, any self-respecting Southern boy could tell you were a river rat," he replied, lowering his sunglasses and smirking at her with brown eyes.

"Just like any self-respecting river rat could tell you were a swamp_ rat," Marie responded._

Remy grinned. "So we understand each other."

"No, we do not," said Marie, "because you have not left or shriveled up and died, like I have been wanting you to."

"Mmm, spicy."

She reached over and slapped him.

"Ok, that smarts."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be annoying?" Marie demanded.

"Hold up there, for a moment we were getting along," Remy replied.

"Then you must be even stupider then I thought."

"No fighting, you two," said Wanda, setting down Marie's soup. "If you do, I'll have to be the one to clean it up."

"Oh, we weren't fighting," said Marie, overly innocent. "Remy_ was just leaving."_

"Funny, I hadn't noticed that," said Remy.

"You have to leave," said Marie, "because I want to eat, and just the sight of you makes me nauseous."

Remy let out an overdramatic sob. "Oh, all right, I know where I'm not wanted," he sighed. He got up and left, flicking his fingers in farewell, a slight smirk on his face.

It wasn't until after he left and she'd finished her soup that Marie remembered that she'd had her wallet in her pocket, not her purse.

&&&

Marie's job wasn't bad- she was an intern at a small law firm. Basically, this meant she got to do a lot of paperwork and research for cases. Boring, but the pay was enough to make up for the four years at law school.

However, she wasn't in such a hurry to get to her desk because she wanted to push papers. No, she wanted to inspect her wallet, because that Remy guy was probably a pickpocket, and she wanted to make sure everything was intact.

She sat down and pulled it out. She counted her cash and everything seemed to be in order... credit cards... driver's license... and then she found it. A playing card, tucked into one of the photo pockets. She pulled it out and flipped it over. Scrawled on it was a phone number.

Marie glared down at it. For a moment she considered tossing it out, but decided against it. She tucked it back into the photo pocket. Maybe when she got home she'd burn it...

&&&

Marie glanced over at Remy. He hadn't stirred, even though it was already eleven in the morning. She smiled in spite of herself and then quietly got up and got dressed, leaving with barely a sound.

&&&

Marie pushed open the door to the Acoustic Cafe, getting a sense of deja vu. This wasn't odd, considering her earlier thoughts.

She sat down at her normal booth.

Wanda, over at the waitress's station, made a beeline for her. "So, what is it today?" she asked, taking out her order pad. "Coffee, or girl talk?"

Marie smiled. "A little of both would be nice."

"Good. I'm almost off shift, anyway." She walked back into the kitchen, and, as the clock struck eleven thirty, came back with two cups of coffee and normal clothing. She sat down across from Marie and handed her one. "Ok, what's up?"

"If I tell you this," said Marie, frowning at her, "then you have to promise not to tell anyone else, or tease me about it."

Wanda nodded. "You're dating Remy, aren't you," she said, grinning.

A series of expressions came and went across Marie's face, from indignation to surprise. "How... how did you know? Is this one of those Wiccan things?"

Wanda laughed. "No, actually, I haven't done a proper ritual in a while. It's one of those 'it's-written-on-your-face-that-I-knew-it-would-happen-and-you-didn't-want-to-admit-that-you-were-wrong-and-I-was-right' things."

Marie stared. "...That was the longest nihilism I ever heard. And that's saying a lot." Then she shook herself. "We're not dating!"

"Spotted that, did you?" said Wanda. "So... what is it then? A dominatrix 'you-want-sex-and-I-want-sex-so-you-give-me-sex-when-I-tell-you-to' thing?"

"How the _hell_ did you know?" Marie replied.

"Well, if it wasn't love, I always figured you'd like it kinky." Wanda mulled this over a moment, then added as an afterthough, "Even if it was love, maybe."

"But that's just it," said Marie. She looked around, and then lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "I _am_ in love with him. At least, I think so..."

Wanda stared for a moment, then she grinned rather nastily.

"If you say 'I told you so', I'm going to murder you."

"Oh, I wasn't."

"Rea-?"

"I'm just going to grin like the proverbial Cheshire Cat until you tell me what the deal is."

Marie groaned. "Ok, so it's been just cheap, meaningless sex for a while now. And then all of a sudden he starts doing these things- or maybe I just start noticing them more or something..."

"Like what?"

"Like earlier this morning. We had some wine last night, and we left the glasses on the bedside table. This morning, I found out they were smashed on the floor in front of the bathroom. So guess what he does? He grabs me, bridal-style, and carries me over the glass so I can take a shower." She paused, and rolled her eyes. "He kinda ruined the moment by asking if he could join me, but that's just him."

Wanda laughed. "You're right, that does sound like him."

"So what do you think I should do?"

"You're talking to a girl who got dumped for her brother," Wanda replied. "I am _not_ one to give advice."

"Yeah, but if I don't get an answer from you, I'll have to call Kitty."

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Well... no... but... she's just so _happy_! All the time!"

"True, there's that. But you're gonna havta, 'cause I got nothing but 'tell the guy how you feel, you goddamn idiot.'"

"Don't quit your day job," Marie replied.

"What, and miss all the tips I get for wearing a bandana as a shirt? Hell no, woman!"

The sound of Marie's laughter accompanied Wanda back to the waitress's station.

&&&

_Marie came into her boss's office, a stack of papers and some books blocking her view of anything that wasn't straight ahead. "Here you go, sir, those files you-"_

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise," said a familiar voice.

Marie jumped and gasped, the papers flying everywhere and the books hitting the floor with very audible thumps.

Her boss, Mr. Fury, cleared his throat.

"I'm- I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, rushing to gather the stuff up.

"My fault," said Remy, bending down to help her. "Sorry if I startled you," he said to Marie. "I just didn't think I would get any pleasure out of getting a divorce."

"And you won't!" Marie snapped, turning her fiercest glare on him as she thought He was _married! "Sorry about this, sir," she said, pointedly not looking at Remy as she set the papers on his desk. "I'll get back to work."_

&&&

Marie sighed in utter contentment as she sank down into a chair at her apartment. Finally, no more work, no more hassle, no more goddamn swamp rats-_ She paused, remembering the card._

She pulled out her wallet and subsequently the card. She glanced at the number. "Oh, what the hell," she said, wishing to sate her curiosity about his divorce. "I bet he won't even pick up. And if he doesn't, I'll burn this."

She grabbed her phone and dialed the number.

&&&

Halfway across town, Remy LeBeau felt the vibration of his cell phone as he sat at a bar. "Bonjour,_" he answered._

"Hello? Mr. LeBeau?"

He recognized the voice instantly. It was the girl whose wallet he'd nicked. He grinned. GOD she was gorgeous. Maybe she'd come around. "Oui_?"_

"I just wanted to know, if you didn't think it was too personal or something- if you want a divorce in New Orleans, why did you come all the way up here?"

Or maybe not. Remy winced. This gal had a way of getting straight to the point. The very personal_ point. He sighed and spun around in his stool._

"Mr. LeBeau?"

"Call me Remy," he said, out of habit.

He could almost see her rolling her pretty green eyes. "Fine, Remy_, then. What's the deal?"_

"This is not really an over-the-phone topic, chere_."_

"It's Marie_," she replied._

"It's not," he repeated.

She groaned, and Remy's grin reappeared as he imagined her banging her head against something. He loved annoying beautiful women. "Oh, fine," she muttered. "Meet me at the Acoustic Cafe tomorrow, at noon. Can you do that?"

"Mais oui_."_

"And if you're getting the idea that this is starting something between us, then you'd better think again, swamp rat, because this is strictly off-the-job curiousity. Got it?"

"Oui, oui_," Remy replied. "All right, all right."_

"Ok, bye." She hung up without giving him a chance to reply.

Remy stared at the phone, wondering if what had just happened was good or bad.

&&&

Marie flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Am I nuts?" she asked of it. The ceiling, naturally, gave no reply. "Lot of help you are," she muttered, rolling over. "I must be. I'm holding conversations with the paneling. In an apartment."

She groaned, and stuck her head under her pillow.

&&&

The bells on the door of the Acoustic Cafe jingled as she walked in. She looked around. Good._ Remy had yet to arrive. She took her normal table._

"Hey, Jubes," she said to the waitress who came over.

"Hi, Marie," chirped the sixteen-year-old. "What'll it be?"

"Guess."

"Black coffee strong enough to take the paint off the walls?"

"Read my mind, kid."

"Don't call me kid," she replied, walking back to the kitchen.

Marie smiled at the comfort of routine. Jubilation was more Wanda's friend than hers, but they still knew each other pretty well- Marie came here often enough that she knew just about everyone.

Then Remy came in, ruining her sense of calm. Why couldn't any of the boys down South be normal-looking?

She shook herself. Hard. The last_ thing she was looking for was a relationship. _Definitely_._

He spotted her, and came over and sat down. "You want to probe my private life. Why? Lawyer's-lackey-to-client morale, curiousity, pure sadism?"

"Mmm, a little of each," she replied. Whatever you do, just don't flirt with him.__

"Thought so," said Remy, his brown eyes unreadable.

"Ok," said Marie. "Mainly, what I wanna know is why you came all the way up here to get a divorce, leaving darling dearest down in New Orleans. Why bother?"

"How did you know I was from New Orleans?" he replied, too obviously taken aback to be dodging the question

"The Cajun's in your accent, the Big Easy's in your walk."

Remy stared at her a moment more, then shook himself. "All right," he murmured. "Long story short, my father wanted to marry her. We were friends, so I didn't think that it would be so bad. Longer_ story short, it was. And I'm up here because I couldn't stand another moment in her presence. Is that all you wanted to know?"_

"What's the long story?" she countered.

"If I answer, will you tell me who hurt you bad enough to turn such a belle femme_ into a maneater?"_

Marie frowned up at him. "On second thought, my curiosity's sated. Good day, Mr. LeBeau_." She set a five dollar bill on her saucer and walked out._

"You're braver than most," Jubilation commented.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, pausing, her tray balanced on the hand that wasn't on her hip. "She must like you, though. She would have killed most men on the spot for asking about Scott."

"Scott?"

"Oh, no, that's Marie's business," said Wanda. "And if you even hint at it, Jubes, I'll have to kill you. Best friend thing." She sauntered off.

Jubilation stuck her tongue out at her back, and then turned back to Remy. "Are you going to order something or do I have to kick you out?" she asked, snapping her gum.

"Do you sell strong liquor before noon?"

&&&

Marie scowled at the penguins in the zoo. They were always so cheerful, and usually that cheered her up, but today they just made her more pissed. What makes me really mad about this,_ she thought, pulling a face at one of them, _is how much I'm thinking about it.__

She sat down on the bench in the underwater area, pulled her knees up to her chest, and tried to concentrate on nothing but the fishy smell of the room.

"I'd apologize for whatever I did up close," said Remy, "but I have this crippling fear of penguins."

"You're not serious."

"I am. It's very weird, I know, but the only thing that's keeping me from getting the hell_ out of here is the inexplicable urge to have you not hate me."_

"You're weird."

"Yeah, I know. So are you going to come out, or can I bolt?"

Marie groaned inwardly.

Remy started to walk off.

"All right," Marie said. "I'm going to go against all my better instincts and ask you to wait."

She got up and fell into step beside him.

"So why are you scared of penguins?"

"Nobody knows." Whe she choked, he added, "No, really! On the first grade trip to the zoo, I'm told I attempted to run away screaming when we got to the penguins, but I slipped on a fish and knocked myself out. I don't remember it, of course."

Marie gave up and burst out laughing. Her laughter dried up, though, when she realized she was leaning on Remy. She straightened, trying to ignore the annoying smirk on Remy's face. "Who told you where I was?" she asked, trying to regain some of her shattered dignity.

"Jubilee. She said, very loudly, and I quote, 'Hey, Wanda, doesn't Marie_ like penguins?' Wanda didn't take the bait, but I got the hint."_

"I should've figured it would be her," Marie muttered. "She's been looking for a way to kill me since I 'let slip' that she just maybe might have a supergigantic crush on her best friend Bobby."

"Et_..."_

"And Bobby was about two feet away."

Remy snorted. "D'accord_," he said, leaning on the bars over the tiger enclosure. "I told you my most random fear, so what's yours?"_

Marie drummed her fingers on the railing. "I dunno... I never really thought about it, I guess..." She shot him a sly glance. "Maybe being stalked by a divorcee swamp rat?"

"I ain't stalking you," Remy replied. "If anything, you're stalking me_. Lawyers ain't supposed to take too much stake in their client's personal lives."_

"You're not a stalker," Marie admitted, "and I'm not your lawyer."

"Well, all right then."

&&&

Marie wasn't sure how long they stood there, just talking, or exactly how he coaxed her into it, only that she was meeting him for lunch again tomorrow.

How do I get myself into these things?'_ she wondered. For some reason, she got the feeling she was only thinking this out of habit, rather than actual annoyance._

&&&

Marie slipped back into her apartment. Remy was stretched out on the couch, playing solitaire.

"Do you _ever_ go anywhere without cards?" she asked, sitting down next to him and putting the deuce of spades on top of the three of hearts.

"No, not really," Remy admitted, shrugging.

Then he did something strange- he put his arms around and pulled her close. Marie stiffened. "We've been trading off sex for almost a month now," he murmured in her ear, clearly amused. "Aren't I allowed to be a little affectionate?"

Marie pulled out of his grip and stalked off, replying, "No. We agreed- this isn't gonna last." 

"If you keep acting like that," Remy agreed, even though he knew she couldn't hear, "then no, it won't."

&&&

In her room, Marie stared at her reflection in the mirror. _When we started this, we both knew it wouldn't last... so why do I keep wanting it to?_

She fell backwards onto her bed, thinking of how it all had started. She _had_ initiated it, after all.

&&&

_It had been about two weeks since that day at the zoo. Remy really annoyed her, but he still managed to wheedle another not-a-date-just-a-friendly-meeting out of her every time._

This was driving her insane.

Already, the swamp rat had grown on her, despite all her affectation to the contrary, and she was beginning to get the idea that she might really start to like him if this kept up.

She needed to end this.

Then she got something. She could_ end it... or she could make it so emotionally meaningless that she wouldn't have to worry about it._

&&&

At her next little meeting with Remy, she asked for his address.

"Why?" he asked.

"So I can blow it up, naturally," she'd blurted out, not having a real excuse.

Remy chuckled as he wrote it down on a napkin. "Good a reason as any..."

Boy, is he gonna be surprised,_ she thought as she gazed down at the napkin, cross-legged on her bed._

&&&

Later that night, Remy LeBeau was rather surprised to hear a knock at his door. He opened it and raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what time it is? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, or anything..."

"Are you gonna let me in or what?" was Marie's response.

Remy stepped aside in response.

He sat down on the couch and gestured for her to do the same, but she shook her head. "Whatever, chere_." He saw the usual flicker of annoyance at the endearment cross her face, but then it settled back into the same odd look she was wearing._

She leaned on the back of the couch, propping her chin on her fists. Remy twisted to meet her eyes. She leaned in closer. This was getting weird. Not a bad weird, but still weird.

"Ok," said Marie. "I'm not one for belaying the point, so here's the deal. You want me. I want you. Neither of us wants any real commitment."

Remy blinked.

Marie slid next to him on the couch now.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"If you're thinking commitment-free sex, then, yes, I am."

Remy stared at her for a moment, but her green eyes were totally serious and revealed nothing of what she might really be thinking. Eh, if she's got something to say, she'll say it,_ he thought, and leaned in to kiss her._

&&&

Admittedly, Marie thought, it hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done... no, definitely not.

At first, she'd found the sex as a means to an end- keeping Remy emotionally at arm's length. And then somehow, it had turned out to work exactly the opposite. She'd hoped it would keep Remy quiet, but it had only seemed to make him more curious. Yeah, the move was out of character, but she'd hoped that it would make him lose interest, make him think that she was just another bimbo- interesting at first glance, but boring after longer study.

To sum up, it wasn't working.

Marie groaned, and picked up the phone.

"Who're you calling?" Remy asked, leaning in the doorway.

She jumped, and then glared at him. It was the little things that had roped her in, and the event on the couch was one of them. "An old friend," she replied. "Now scat."

He rolled his eyes, but bowed and complied.

Marie spun around in her chair to face the bed, listening to the phone ring. _Come on, pick up..._

After three rings, someone did. "Hello?" asked a voice with a Russian accent.

"Hey, Pete," said Marie, twirling the phone cord around her finger and smiling. "Kitty there?"

"_Da_, just a moment." There was a click as he set down the phone and a call of "Katya! Marie's on the phone!"

"Hello?" Kitty chirped.

"Hi Kit," said Marie, the smile widening.

"You haven't called in _ages_. What's the emotional crisis?"

"Send your boyfriend out of the room and maybe I'll tell you."

"It's fiance now. I haven't sent out the invites yet."

Marie grinned so hard she thought her face would break. "So Piotr finally popped the question?"

"Yes... after lots of 'hinting' from me."

Marie chuckled.

"So... why did you call?"

Marie sighed. "It's about a guy."

Kitty let out a little high-pitched squeal of pure delight.

"I thought Piotr matured all of the Valley Girl out of you."

"I'm living in Deerfield again, Marie. I can't help it. So, what's his name?"

"Remy LeBeau."

"And what's your status with him? Annoyance, dating, what?"

"Does supposed-to-be cheap and meaningless sex count as a status?"

"Depends on what supposed to be means."

Marie frowned and spun the chair slightly, trying to think of how to phrase it. "I dunno... I was getting too attached to him... so after a while I got him in bed... it was supposed to be a temporary thing, I thought he'd get bored... but..." She shrugged.

"He didn't and now you're starting to see that you really, really like him?" 

"...Damn you and your ability to see straight through my relationships!"

"Speaking of, have you told him about Scott yet?"

She winced a bit. "Have I told you you're as blunt as an axe without a blade?"

"How'd he get it out of you?"

Marie resisted the urge to spin the chair a few times and strangle herself.

&&&

_It had been three weeks after that first night together. Those meetings were just like the ones before them (except more involved)- Remy always talked her into another one. Now, as they lay on the bed together, she was finding herself wondering if she didn't _want_ him to._

Remy rolled over and picked up the picture on her end table. "Who're they?" he asked, pointing at the young man in the picture. He had his arm around a girl in pink.

Marie took it from him, smiling faintly. "That's my friend Kitty, and my brother Kurt. I took that picture after they graduated high school. Been a while since then, but I haven't seen them much- Kitty's in Illinois and Kurt's back in Germany."

"You're related to him?" Marie could understand his confusion. She was pale and Southern-designed, with brown hair. Kurt was tanned and lanky, with dark blue-black hair.

"Adopted, naturally. His birth mother adopted me. Her partner wanted a daughter, but mom couldn't have another baby, so they found me." She paused, seeing the sharp look Remy had shot her after "adopted." "What?"

"It's strange, is all," he replied, staring off into space. "I was adopted, too."

She was surprised to hear this. So surprised, in fact, that she almost dropped the photo. She raised an eyebrow.

"Really! Mon pere_ found me on his doorstep one morning." He shrugged. "And the rest, they say, is history."_

"Is he the one who taught you to pick pockets?"

"Among other things, oui_."_

"And he's the one who told you to marry that girl?" (The paperwork had long been finished- Remy was only staying up there because his wife had yet to send back the stuff with her signature on it, and he didn't want to risk running into her and wrecking everything.)

Remy avoided her eyes. "Oui._ Me and him, we don't get along so well anymore."_

"Same with me and my mom," Marie murmured. Remy raised an eyebrow, and she added, "Well, I mean, she didn't try to make me marry anyone, but we had a falling out, too, after my relationship fell apart."

Remy leaned over and brushed the hair out of her eyes, peering at her intensely. "Who hurt you so bad, chere_? I can see it in your eyes, the way you walk- you don't want to trust me, and yet you do it anyway, and that's why you want me to leave. Can you tell me that, at least?"_

Marie hugged herself, looking at the floor. "Scott Summers," she murmured, and realized she hadn't said the name aloud for over a year. "I'd known him since I was a little kid- when we moved up here, Kitty Pryde had the house on the left and Scott had the house on the right. It was love, for me anyway, right from the start."

Remy cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "How old were you?"

Marie tilted her head back at the ceiling, tapping her lips with a finger. "Mmm... lemme see... Kurt was five when we moved so I was about... seven."

Remy shrugged. "I can understand that."

She glanced at him quizzically.

"It was like that with me and Belle. But I grew out of it." He shuddered a little. "She, unfortunately, didn't. Now, go on, please."

"I never did anything about it- anyone with eyes could tell he was head over heels for another girl. Jean Grey." She practically spat the name. "We never got along, and that endlessly confused Scott. It was funny. Anyway, they started going out in high school. And then there was the car accident. Jean's friend died instantly- she fell into a coma. Jean wasn't braindead- the doctors just doubted she would ever wake up. And that's when I moved in. I didn't mean to. Scott and I were friends... he was crushed... I tried to comfort him, and he ended up kissing me." She propped her chin on her fist. "I guess I knew from the start we weren't gonna last, but I didn't wanna admit it. High school ended. We were going to different colleges, and the day before I left, he proposed. Three weeks later, Jean woke up. He didn't even tell me in person- he just called me out of the blue, apologized, and said he was retracting his offer. Then he hung up."

Remy stared at her for a moment. Then he was kissing her, like he was trying to make all the hurt go away. At the very least,_ she thought, kissing back, _he can keep my mind off him for a while...__

Marie was pretty sure that was when she finally tipped over the edge and fell for him.

&&&

Marie told Kitty only the bare-bones details of this, of course. But she got the idea.

"So what's your problem?" Kitty said, after she'd finished.

"I thought that would be obvious."

"It's not."

"All right, then- what the _hell_ do I do now!"

"Tell him," Kitty replied simply.

"Wanda said that. Sorta."

"Well, Wanda was right for once." (Wanda and Kitty didn't get along very well- Kitty was perky, Wanda was not. Kitty was Jewish, and Wanda was a Wiccan. They were like oil and water, they could tolerate mixing, but only for short periods of time.)

"But I can't do that!"

"If you're scared of baring your soul to him, you shouldn't be. He likes you back."

"Kitty, you don't even know him."

"I can tell. Have I ever been wrong?"

"You were about Scott."

"Scott was an idiot and you know it. Anyone would've been fooled by him."

Marie sighed, massaging her temples. "Any other pearls of wisdom?"

"No. I'm not going to tell you there's an easy way out of this. Because there's not. You're just going to have to deal, girl."

"Oh, fine." Marie decided to change the subject. "So when's your wedding?"

Kitty made another of those squeals and began to detail her plans.

&&&

Remy was asleep next to her. This was a usual occurence. Marie buried her face in his chest. His breathing was steady and even. "I love you," she whispered. "I think I really do. Damn you, Remy LeBeau." 

She felt a lot better for having said that. She drifted off.

Remy's eyes popped open. There were two things (well, two _main_ things) that she didn't know about him- he had only been feigning sleep, and he'd been in love with her for over a month.

He was pretty sure it'd started that day at the zoo. After the penguins, naturally. It had been the first time she'd really relaxed around him, and just the way she acted made him sure he liked her a lot. She was a woman of contrast- all fire, but so vulnerable.

He'd been extremely weirded out when she'd shown up in his apartment and suggested sex, but he wasn't gonna complain. She'd intended it as a way to end whatever "they" were; Remy had used it to extend it. And the longer he did, the deeper he dug himself in.

But he honestly hadn't known she'd felt the same. He had a talent for reading people, but one of the reasons he'd initially been attracted to her was that he could rarely tell what Marie was thinking.

He stroked her hair. She'd never allow such a thing when she was awake- she would redouble her efforts to break it off with him now. He just had to assure her that he loved her back before she got the chance.

&&&

Remy woke up before Marie did. This was a rare occurence. Usually, Marie was up and gone long before he awoke.

After watching her sleep for a moment, he decided to spoil it. He touched her shoulder. "_Chere_. Wake up."

"How many times," she asked, opening one green eye and glaring at him with it, "do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"What do you want me to call you, then?"

"Oh, I dunno, my _name_, maybe?"

Remy propped his head on his arm and looked down at her. "Would you prefer I called you _amour_?"

Marie's head jerked up. "W-What?"

"I heard what you said last night, Marie." Marie's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak. Remy covered it. "Don't talk. Don't think. Just love me." He took his hand off her mouth and replaced it with his lips.

TWO WEEKS LATER...

Marie drummed her fingers on the table, looking around. _He's late,_ she thought sourly.

"Coffee," said Wanda, pouring her some. She glanced at her friend. "I'd hate to be whoever you're meeting."

Marie got a rather nasty smirk on her face. "You have no idea, Wanda."

Wanda glanced at her, an overly dramatic look of terror on her face, then booked it for the kitchen.

Marie shook her head, chuckling, as she sipped her coffee. There was a jingle at the door as someone walked in.

Remy LeBeau sat down across from her, smirking.

"What're you smilin' about, LeBeau?" Marie demanded. "You're late."

"So?"

"So it's annoying to have to wait for you."

Remy rolled his eyes. "Oh, you don't mind, and you know it."

Marie smiled into her mug, the engagement ring on her finger sparkling in the morning sun. "Ok, maybe I don't."

(That didn't take me as long as I thought it would... it still took a while, though. Next chapter is slash, so shy away if you dislike that stuff... review, please!)


	2. Much Ado About Pie

Disclaimer: "I could tell she appreciated how hard it was for me to say that." "Did you know you're really annoying when you talk?"

(An: And here is the second chapter... as I said before, it is SLASH. So don't blame me if you read it and don't like it or whatever. This one is a lot less serious... and there aren't any flashbacks. For the perpetually clueless, JP is a canon character. He has a twin sister Aurora who had a relationship with Sasquatch (the one alluded to here). By the way, there IS continuity. The first chapter hinted at a lot that happens later on, and Remy and Marie show up again. So don't worry.)

Jean-Paul Beaubier was nineteen years old. He liked cold places, hated America, and wanted nothing more than for his twin sister to show up so he could leave.

Bobby Drake knew none of this when he first saw him. He only knew that the guy muttering to himself at the bus stop bench was probably crazy, but nonetheless the sexiest guy he'd ever seen.

Bobby set down his fork. "I'll be right back, Jubes."

"Why are you telling me?" she replied, without looking up from her magazine.

"Watch my pie."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Will do, cheif."

Bobby walked out of the Acoustic Cafe and sat down next to the guy. "You," said Bobby, "look like you could use some pie."

He didn't favor Bobby with a glance.

"I," Bobby went on, ignoring that, "can provide that pie. Now the question is, what kind of pie do you like?"

Now he looked. His eyebrow went up.

"They've got really good pie back there. Really, _really_ good pie. I should know. I ditched my pie to come discuss pie with you, the crazy pieless man."

_Finally_ he spoke. He had a French accent that was as pleasing as the rest of him. "Who are you," he asked, "to call me crazy, when _you_ are the one who offered pie to a complete stranger?"

"But it's really _good_ pie."

"I am not interested in American," the way he sneered when he said it made being American the worst of afflicitions, "pie."

"Not even really good pie?" No response. "We've got French Silk."

"I give you an A for effort, if not for intelligence."

"What are you doing here, anyway? You look like you belong in some Paris cafe, going 'These Americans, they make my ass twitch.'"

The man's lips quivered slightly in a way that suggested he wanted to laugh but wasn't going to, just to spite Bobby. "I am on a business trip, of sorts. And I am waiting for my sister, but I'm beginning to regret it, because she's probably just snogging her boyfriend somewhere and thinking nothing of her poor _frere_."

"So you have nothing to do?"

"..._Non_, not really..."

"So come have pie!"

"Why are you so obsessed with pie!"

"It's really good pie!"

"Do you work there or something?" Bobby could tell he was getting the guy exasperated. Which was good.

"No... but my best friend does." He leaned over in a conspirator's whisper. "She gives me a discount on the pie."

"You're just not going to give up and go away, are you."

"Unless Jubes says someone's eating my pie, no."

"Who's Jubes?"

"My waitress friend." Bobby nodded back at the resteraunt.

An unreadable expression flicked across the other guy's face. Then he shrugged. "Oh, why not."

"Great!" 

Bobby fairly skipped back into the cafe; his new "friend" followed at a more subdued pace.

"Thanks for watching my pie, Jubes."

"I still don't get why anyone would take it."

Bobby stared at her incredulously for a moment, then sat down.

"Who's your friend? He's hot."

"If there's one thing that can be said for Americans," the man muttered, sitting down across from Bobby, "you do not mince words."

Jubilee snapped her gum. "Well, it's true. You must have a lot of stalkers."

"No, that's my sister. She was in a Wonderbra ad. I have to wear a shirt at public events that says 'No, I CAN'T give you her number.'"

Bobby snorted. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Jean-Paul Beaubier."

"Bobby, Bobby Drake. And this is Jubes."

"He means Jubilee."

"Close enough. So, anyway, JP- do you mind if I call you JP?"

"If I can call you otter-pop."

"...Otter-pop? Is that some kind of French delicacy or something?"

Jean-Paul looked vaguely squicked at the idea. "_Non_. It's a Canadian thing."

"I thought you were French. You sound French. Doesn't he sound French?" (This last was directed at Jubilee.)

"I'm French-Canadian."

"Ooh. Neato."

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. "So what were you saying?"

"Oh, right. What kind of pie do you want?"

"I thought we established I don't want pie."

"Why not?" Bobby and Jubilee simultaneously demanded.

Again, that weird look crossed his face. He rolled his eyes. "I don't like pie."

Double gasps.

"What?"

"You can't not like this pie," Bobby replied.

"He's right, you know," Jubilee said, nodding sagely. "The chef won an award for his pie."

Bobby took a forkful of pie and offered it to Jean-Paul, who stared at it as though it were something he'd never seen before. "Try the pie," Bobby commanded.

"I'll pass."

"Your loss," said Bobby after a second, and popped it into his mouth. "So who's your sister?"

"Jean-Marie, but don't call her that, or she'll punch you."

"What, not a big fan of hyphenated names?"

"No, she's got a split personality." Bobby stared. "No, really! I know, it sounds like a soap opera. Everyone says that. Anyway, right now, she's 'Aurora' and if you call her Jean-Marie... well... let's just say she's got one helluva left hook."

"Hey, Jubes! Get your ass over here!" yelled a girl at the waitress's station. Jubilee booked it.

Jean-Paul looked at her, then raised an eyebrow at Bobby.

"What?"

"So..."

"So what?"

"So how long have you two been dating?"

"..._WHY_ does everyone ask that!" 

"Because you act like it. So you're not?"

"No!" Bobby shook his head fervently.

Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow again.

"...Do you do that a lot?"

"Why, yes. I am usually considered a bitter, cynical jerk. The public morale is not good, but hey, they still pay me."

"What do you do, anyway?"

"I won a few trophies for skiing, my sister is the Canadian face of boobs, and I led a couple of gay pride rallies."

Bobby (who was unlucky enough to be taking a drink at the time) ending up spitting half his coffee onto the remains of his pie.

"_Quoi_?"

"You're gay?"

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. "You know, it's funny, everyone does that."

Bobby didn't really hear this. Probably because he was screaming _THANK YOU GOD!_ in his head and trying not to let it show on his face at the same time.

Thankfully, Jubilee came over with another piece of pie.

"I love you," said Bobby, grabbing the pie. He paused, not spotting the look on his other friends faces. "You want this?" He offered the pie to Jean-Paul, who shook his head.

"Let's get one thing straight, otter-pop- I do not and will not want any pie."

"So I _can_ call you JP?"

"Do you make it a habit to pick up random threads of conversations?"

Bobby tapped his lips. "Why, yes, yes I do."

"He does," Jubilee stage-whispered to Jean-Paul.

"We are short-staffed today, JUBILATION!"

"Ack!" Jubilee ran.

"..._Jubilation_?" Jean-Paul asked.

"Real name," Bobby replied, sipping his coffee. "Everyone calls her Jubilee because her name is Jubilation Lee- genius, isn't it?- and I've known her for so long that I just call her Jubes. Got it?"

"Ah," said Jean-Paul, smiling slightly. 

_Focus, Drake, FOCUS, dammit._ He managed to choke out a "Very good."

Now Jean-Paul was downright smirking.

Bobby resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

"You meet the weirdest people here," Jubilee commented, walking back over and leaning on the booth. "Are you _sure_ you don't want pie? It's really good."

"You work here. I'm not about to trust your opinion."

"Now that's just rude."

"WHAT PART OF SHORT-STAFFED DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!"

"Who _is_ that screaming woman, anyway?" Jean-Paul asked.

"Eh, that'd be Wanda," said Bobby, flicking cheeky fingers at Jubilee. "She's kind of the boss. And Jubilee's the ass monkey."

Jean-Paul choked.

"Ha! Triumph!"

"I fear your irreverant stupidity is getting to me, yes."

"Hey, it's not irreverant! I have to think hard to be this stupid."

Jean-Paul shook his head. "You are living proof that Americans really _are_ as stupid as they sound."

"Now, you see, that's just not nice."

"_Mon cher_, I have never claimed to be nice. In fact, most people claim that I am an insufferable ass."

_A really _sexy_ass..._ "Hey, what does _cher_ mean? Jubilee, do you know?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm two years younger than you."

"Well, still..." Bobby and Jubilee looked expectantly at Jean-Paul.

That smirk came back. "Oh, no, I'm not telling..."

"Is it a swear word?"

"No... I like teaching small children French swearwords. It's funny."

"I'm not a small child!" Bobby replied. "I'm eighteen!"

"And I didn't teach you a swear word, so there you go."

"Oh. Right."

Right then, a very pissed-off looking Wanda came over, grabbed Jubilee's arm, and dragged her off.

"Have fun doing dishes!" Bobby said, twiddling his fingers at them.

"You're very rude to her, you know."

"And you're very rude to me, but you don't hear me complaining."

"_Oui_, but I don't have a thing for you the size of the Eiffel Tower."

"Why does everyone say that!" Bobby cried.

"Because it's true?"

"Is not."

"I will not stoop to your level."

"It's not true."

"I'm not taking the bait."

"It's not!"

Jean-Paul made an exasperated noise. "It is too. SATISFIED!"

"You're really weird."

"Says Super Pie Man."

"But it's really _good_ pie!"

"I wish I had a chalkboard so I could keep track of how many times you've said that."

"I'm gonna keep saying it until you try the pie."

"And I'm not going to. I don't like pie."

"Which proves that you are as I first assumed."

"Which is?"

"Completely crazy."

"That's been said, _oui_."

"Crazy, gay, and famous. You do _not_ have a lot going for you, man."

"Thank you for informing me of that. I shall go quietly cry in the corner, bemoaning my wasted, gay life."

"I'm not saying it because you're gay!" Bobby objected. "You're just an asshole."

"This is true."

"Damn straight it is."

Jean-Paul got up. "Excuse me a moment." He walked off.

Bobby got a crafty smile on his face and followed.

Jean-Paul walked into the bathroom. After a moment, Bobby came over and leaned against the wall by the door.

When Jean-Paul came out, Bobby all but tackled him.

&&&

"Ok, kid," said Wanda. "It's a ghost town in here now, so guess what we get to do?"

"You only take on that screamingly sarcastic cheerful tone when..."

Wanda handed her a mop. "Yep, we get to clean the men's bathroom."

Jubilee groaned.

"Cheer up! This is why you took this job!"

A FEW MINUTES LATER...

"You open it."

"No, you open it."

"I pull seniority."

Jubilee muttered something that probably wasn't very nice, but pushed open the door.

Leaning against the wall of said bathroom and macking heavily were Bobby and Jean-Paul.

Jubilee stared for a moment. Then her mop clattered to the ground as she fell over in a dead faint.

"...Would you guys get a _stall_?" Wanda demanded, after determining that Jubilee wasn't dead.

"Hi Wanda," said Bobby.

It took Jean-Paul a moment longer to get his composure back. "Is she ok?" he asked, pointing down at Jubilee.

"She's just suffering from a severe case of shock. Would you move so I can scrub the pheremones off the wall, please?"

Jean-Paul and Bobby exchanged glances, and then decided now would be a good time to leave.

They went back to their table, at which Bobby resumed eating his pie. "You taste like that _merde_," Jean-Paul commented.

"I am assuming," said Bobby, without looking up, "that the word _merde_ means something rude and disgusting in French, neither of which describe this pie."

"You assume correctly." He drummed his fingers on the table. "So do you treat all of your conquests like that?"

"To be honest, I've never kissed a guy before," Bobby replied, tapping his index fingers together and looking a little sheepish. "I had a few girlfriends in freshman year, but..."

"Nothing doing?"

"Exactly."

"A shopkeeper friend of mine pretty much smacked me to get me to understand."

"Ah."

And that, of course, was when Jubilee came over. She had a rather nasty bump on her head and an even nastier scowl. "Robert Francis Drake!" she cried. "Why didn't you just _say_ you were gay!" She slapped him across the face. Hard. And then she walked off, trying to maintain her dignity.

"Ouch," said Jean-Paul.

"I second that," Bobby muttered, rubbing his cheek. "That's gonna leave a mark."

Wanda came over. She leaned against the booth, panting a little. "_Man_ it is hard to book in this uniform." She glanced at Bobby. "I'm assuming by the bright red slap mark that Jubes has already been by here?"

"Yep," said Bobby. "I'm assuming by the fact that you knew that Jubes would slap me that you have an idea of what the _hell_ is going on?"

Wanda stared at him for a second, and then started to laugh. "Oh my GOD. Jubilee and Marie said you didn't know, but I never believed them... Oh, _GOD_ this is rich..."

"What," Bobby demanded, "are you TALKING about!"

"Did you once stop to think about your best friend?" Wanda asked, putting one hand on her hip and the other on the table. "Did you ever consider that all her weird behavior might be because she's been crushing on you since, like, the sixth grade?"

Bobby's jaw dropped.

"You know, you look kind of like a fish when you do that," Jean-Paul commented.

"...You're not serious."

"As a matter of fact, I am. Everyone else here has already figured it out. You're just perpetually clueless."

"Yes, yes I am." He paused. He raised a hand. "Can I sign for that ton of bricks, please?"

Wanda snorted. "And if you want to keep up any vestige of friendship with her, I suggest you go talk to her. She's cleaning the bathroom."

"You know, I _wondered_ why you guys were coming in there..."

"Pervert." Wanda walked off.

"Go on, then," said Jean-Paul, flicking his fingers at Bobby.

&&&

Bobby found Jubilee in the men's bathroom, scrubbing obstinately at a rude word on the condom machine. She glanced over, and after a second, her face became blank. "I'm not mad," she said. "Minorly pissed, but not mad."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not to a girl, it isn't."

"Oh. Right. Girl-ese. Forgot. So... you're not mad?"

"I just said that. I'm minorly pissed because you could have just _said_ you were gay and spared me the bitterness."

Bobby rubbed his neck. "It's... you know... not that simple."

Jubilee raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, so it _is_ that simple. But it's also pretty awkward. What was I supposed to say, 'What did I do over my summer vacation? Oh, I just discovered I was gay, that's all. So what did you do?'"

"...I guess..."

"So we're cool right?"

"No, I'm going to be heartbroken for at least a week more, but I'll suffer through it."

Bobby smiled at her. "Good girl. You missed a spot, by the way."

Jubilee held out her bottle of cleaning fluid like a gun at him. "Out, foul spot! Out!"

Bobby got the hint and left.

After he exited, Jubilee sat down with a whump, rubbing at her eyes. "Stupid Bobby," she muttered. "Why do I even like him? He's an idiot."

A short, hairy man came into the bathroom. Jubilee stared. Short and hairy he might've been, but Jubilee liked him right away.

"Do you mind?" he said.

"What, do you need a condom?"

The man glared at her. "It's hard to pee with a girl starin' at you, firecracker."

Jubilee flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked out. As soon as she did, she dropped her composure. _I wonder what his phone number is..._

&&&

"So..." said Bobby, sitting back down at his booth. "Why are you waiting for your sister, anyway? Why don't you just call a cab?"

"Well..." Jean-Paul began to fiddle with a napkin.

"You're fiddling."

"What?"

"You're fiddling. Spit it out."

"Well... I was going to go back to France as soon as she showed up, 'cause you know, we've only got one private jet, but now..." That sexy smirk was back.

"But now..." Bobby prompted, not one to wait for anything.

"But now I may just have to stick around a while longer."

"So you like America?"

"No, I hate it with a passion that burns hotter than a thousand suns, but I have to admit, not all of you are bad..."

"That's better than nothing, anyway."

Jubilee interrupted a comfortable silence, sitting down by Bobby, a smirk on her face.

"We're cool, right?" Bobby asked.

"What else?" she replied, humming to herself.

"Why are you so cheerful?"

She cast a meaningful glance at a grumpy man in a corner booth.

"He's at least twenty years older than you," Jean-Paul pointed out.

"So I go for older men."

"Don't you have something better to do then stare at creepy old guys?" Bobby asked, pulling a squicked face.

"He's got a nice ass," Jean-Paul admitted, as the man walked out of the cafe.

"Not you t- hey, you're right..."

"I saw him first, I get dibs!"

Jean-Paul followed the man with his eyes as he walked down to the bus stop, and then spotted someone. "Hey, there's Aurora!" He grabbed Bobby. "Come on!"

Sitting out on the bus stop bench was a girl who looked exactly like Jean-Paul in some kind of gender-switch mirror. She was very... involved with a tall, bear-ish man.

Jean-Paul walked up behind the bench and cleared his throat.

Aurora held up a finger. After a second she broke it off with the man, winking at him. She glanced over at Jean-Paul. "So you found a way to... entertain yourself?" She nodded at Bobby.

Jean-Paul was Not Amused. "Very funny," he replied. "And how long did you spend making out with him," he nodded at her boyfriend, "before you remembered you were supposed to come find me?"

She glanced at him. "Twenty minutes, would you say?"

"It was longer than that!"

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetie," she replied, tapping his chest. She glanced at Bobby again. "He's not coming on the plane with us."

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine," he muttered. He put a card in Bobby's hand. "Call me sometime." He winked at Bobby.

Bobby stared at him for a second, then at the card, then back at Jean-Paul. _Oh, as if!_ He grabbed Jean-Paul by the shoulders and kissed him.

"Oh, get a ROOM!" Aurora yelled, looking squicked.

"How do you think I felt?" Jean-Paul returned, looking slightly dazed for such a retort.

"You have the sarcasm on speed dial, don't you?" said Bobby.

"It's a French thing."

"It's sexy."

Aurora pulled a face. She grabbed Jean-Paul by the hand. "Come on, little brother, we've got a plane to catch."

Bobby waved at the retreating group, a goofy smile on his face.

"Wipe that grin off your face, boy," said Jubilee, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"Why should I? I have an incredibly sexy best friend and an even sexier French-Canadian boyfriend. What more could anybody ask for?"

"Damn straight!"

(You see, this chapter, is a prime example of what NOT to expect from the rest of this story. It's not really long, it came out quickly, and it's slash. The others will hopefully be longer, but will take me longer, and are all straight couples. This was just for my fun. Oh, btw, I happen to like two canon couples that wouldn't work in Evo- Bobby/JP and Jubilee/Logan. Review!)


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